


always in the last place you look

by ShowMeAHero



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25921402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: He’s the King in the North, now; in theory, he should be able to do anything he wants, whenever he wants to do it. In practice—Well, heknowshe has obligations, that there are responsibilities that come with a position like King in the North, especially now, but he wasn’t expecting to be forced into an arranged marriage, either.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Samwell Tarly
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	always in the last place you look

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carasynthias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carasynthias/gifts).



> for danielle!

Jon wants it on the record that he didn’t exactly  _ want  _ to be King in the North.

In fact, he’d pretty much settled into being perfectly content to die on the Wall, and yet, somehow, in the end, he’s the  _ King in the North. _ He considers that  _ exactly  _ the opposite of dying on the wall.

Once he’d agreed to the position, though, and he’d been so warmly crowned, he’d been optimistic that that would be the end of the arranged elements of his life. He’s had enough decisions made  _ for  _ him at this point in his life. He’s the King in the North, now; in theory, he should be able to do anything he wants, whenever he wants to do it. In practice—

Well, he  _ knows  _ he has obligations, that there are responsibilities that come with a position like King in the North, especially now, but he wasn’t expecting to be forced into an arranged marriage, either.

“I have to  _ what?”  _ Jon asks, incredulous. He’s terrified that he may have actually just heard correctly.

“Uhh— Well,” the new Lord Glover says. “We believe— Yes. You have to marry.”

Jon looks to Sam at his right hand, his heart pounding. He wants Sam to say something, anything, literally anything  _ at all  _ along the lines of  _ You can’t ask him to do that,  _ but all Sam does is look back at him with eyes just as wide.

“And who exactly do you propose that I marry?” Jon asks, finally tearing his eyes away from Sam to pin his bannermen instead. “Have you hogtied and kidnapped some poor fucker off the streets?”

“Jon,” Sam admonishes him quietly, so hushed that nobody but Jon can hear him. Sighing, Jon rubs his face with his gloved hands, agitated. He feels that the room is too hot, all of a sudden, that his clothes are too  _ tight,  _ that he’s  _ suffocating,  _ and it’s making him impossibly angry. He _ hates  _ feeling angry like this.

“Alright, let me see if I understand this,” Jon says. The Northern lords all fall quiet, waiting for him to speak. “You want me to get married  _ now _ because you’re afraid that I’ll be forced to marry Daenerys Targaryen when I arrive in Dragonstone.”

“Uhh…” Lord Glover looks to his brother to his left, then glances back up to Jon and nods. “Yes, that… That’s it.”

Jon taps on the edge of the arm of his seat, twitchy. After a moment, he says, “And who, exactly, are you suggesting I marry?”

“We thought we would leave that up to you,” Lord Glover says, as if he’s being incredibly courteous by allowing Jon to decide  _ who he is going to marry. _ “If you’d like us to suggest possible options based on the best ties for alliances, we would be more than happy to do so.” He hesitates, then adds, “If there is anyone who immediately springs to mind, of course, you can feel free to suggest.”

The way he says it makes it exceedingly clear — to Jon, at least — that he fully does  _ not  _ intend for Jon to come up with an answer. It makes it all the more mortifying when Jon doesn’t actually  _ have  _ an answer.

Instead of sitting here any longer, Jon pushes himself to his feet. He motions to Sam, only to find that Sam’s already standing, as well, waiting for Jon’s cue to leave. It just makes Jon’s heart race all the more.

He turns back to his bannermen to ask, “And when is the wedding?”

“The sooner, the better,” Lord Glover says, after a brief council with the men around him. “It must be done before you leave for Dragonstone, however. When you arrive to speak with the Dragon Queen, we must make absolutely certain that she does not manipulate you or force you to bend to her.”

“And my word isn’t good enough?” Jon asks.

“It's an obligation,” Lord Glover says. “Uhh— Lord Snow.”

Jon glares at him a beat longer before storming from the room, satisfied in the pounding of his boots of the stone. He hears Sam snap,  _ “King.  _ He’s your  _ king,” _ before following after him.

“Jon,” Sam says, trying to catch his arm as he jogs up beside him. Jon just keeps going; he knows he can’t stop here, or everyone will hear him when he inevitably starts shouting. Instead, he continues forward towards his chambers, unwilling to stop until the doors are closed behind him.

Sam, for his part, seems to understand exactly what he means to do. He continues following alongside him in silence, through the hazy stone halls of Winterfell, until they reach the chambers that once belonged to some ancient royal Starks and now instead belong to him and Ghost. He’d refused to take any room that had belonged to someone in his family, someone he’d known. It felt too strange.

It’s not until the doors are closed and closed  _ tightly  _ behind them both that Jon finally explodes.

“I  _ refuse  _ to do this,” is the first thing that falls out of his mouth.

“I don’t think you can refuse to do this,” Sam replies. “It didn’t really feel like a suggestion from them, if you ask me.”

Jon makes a frustrated sound deep in his throat. He tears his gloves off, tossing them towards the closed window in anger. “Why do I  _ have  _ to do this? Why— They can just— I  _ know  _ this is—”

“Jon,” Sam cuts him off. Jon stops, exhaling roughly. “They’re willing to trust a Targaryen if they have to. But only if they  _ have  _ to, and only to survive whatever’s about to happen to us. Not just ‘cause they  _ want  _ to, Jon.”

“I  _ know  _ they don’t want to!” Jon snaps. He sighs, then says, more quietly, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sam says. “I just— I hate to be the one to tell you this, but they’re right. She  _ is  _ going to try to manipulate you, and— I mean, you— You  _ do  _ have—”

“I  _ what,  _ Sam?” Jon demands. “What, I have no brain in my head, is that it? I just listen to the first pretty girl who suggests I give up the North for her, is that it?”

“That’s not what I was going to say and you know it,” Sam tells him. “Stop being dense and just— Will you listen to me for a second?”

Jon would listen to Sam for as long as Sam asked him to, not that he’s ever said that. Not that Sam knows that, because Jon’s made it his deepest secret, over years, now. Rather than confess that secret now, he just nods, sitting heavily on the edge of his bed. Ghost lifts his head from where he’s buried amongst the furs and covers; after observing them, though, he settles back down, eyes closed.

“They want you to get married, and it will have to be soon,” Sam says, matter-of-factly. His face has gone pink, looking just as agitated as Jon feels. “We need help or we’ll lose, and that’s just— That’s the truth. You’re making the right decision, Jon, no matter what anyone says, because you’re making the decision that’s best for your people, and that’s what a king does. You’re not listening to alliances and old grudges and things like that that don’t actually help when people are in danger. That’s important.”

Jon nods. His hands are shaking, now, listening to this. He’s not sure anybody’s actually told him out loud that he’s done anything worthwhile as king yet. Feeling a bit like a madman, he laughs, burying his face in his trembling hands. “I feel like a fool.”

“Well, you’re not, and wallowing won’t make you one,” Sam says. Jon laughs again, a little steadier. When he lifts his head, Sam’s already looking right at him. “Now, do you understand why we’re doing this?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Jon says, flopping backwards on his bed.

“Alright, then,” Sam says. He comes and sits beside Jon’s legs, on the edge of the bed, and says, “We’ll have to think of someone right away.”

Jon snorts, rolling up to look at Sam. After just a beat of hesitation, he yanks him down so they’re sprawled side-by-side in bed, like the two boys they had been rather than the two impossibly responsible men they’ve had to become.

“Believe me, I’ve been trying to trick someone into marrying me for some time,” Jon says. Sam laughs at him. “I’m not sure there’s anyone left to ask.”

“Well, we could ask your sister for options,” Sam suggests. Jon makes a gagging sound.

“Sansa would  _ not  _ be helpful right now,” Jon says. He doesn’t say what he’s thinking, which is that Sansa would immediately suggest his first (and, if he’s being realistic, his only) choice, which is Sam. But Sam can’t hear that, or know that, and so they’re stuck here instead. “We’ll just have to keep thinking. To come up with someone.”

“We’ll have to think quickly,” Sam says. “I can try to come up with someone before tomorrow night.”

Jon falls quiet, just for a moment. His heart pounds, but he makes himself say, “Fine,” anyways. It’s going to be a long day, but it’ll be his last day before he has to marry someone who isn’t Sam, so he’ll just have to enjoy it as best he can.

* * *

Sam finds every opportunity he can to seek Jon out and make another suggestion for a possible bride option. It kills him to do it, when he’d offer himself up in a heartbeat if he could, but he has to. The only other option is Jon going against the rules of his bannermen,  _ and _ leaving for Dragonstone an enemy of his sister,  _ and  _ potentially getting manipulated into surrendering the North to the Dragon Queen.

In addition to all of that, anyways, Jon still is the King in the North, going to  _ Dragonstone.  _ It’s a stupid, reckless decision, in Sam’s opinion, but he’d like someone to accompany Jon who can protect him, so he’s trying to angle his options in that direction.

Sam can’t find Jon over their morning meal, but he does find him right before the afternoon one, pacing in the stone archway right outside the hall.

“Jon,” Sam calls out, and Jon turns, smiling like he does every time he sees Sam. It’s going to drive him insane, one of these days. Gilly’s constantly making fun of him for the way he responds to Jon in return, though, so maybe it’s not all that bad. She’s seen the worst of him.

_ Oh,  _ he thinks.  _ There’s an idea. _

“Sam,” Jon says. He grabs him by the wrist, then tugs him into an embrace, arms as tight around him as he can reach with his layers of furs already on. When they separate, he says, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t around this morning, I was out in the wood for a bit.”

“Oh, don’t apologize,” Sam says. “Did— I mean, did it help? Did you think of anyone?”

“No,” Jon tells him. He directs Sam into the dining hall, towards the head table. “Have you?”

“Actually, I just got an idea,” Sam says. Jon frowns slightly, glaring down at his seat. Sam hesitates to pull out his own, waiting for Jon to indicate that he’s intending to sit, but then the both of them are just standing there like fools.

Jon looks to Sam like he’s done something ridiculous. He pulls Sam’s seat out for him and says, “Sit. Who did you think of?”

“Gilly,” Sam says, taking the seat Jon’s offered him.

_ “Gilly,”  _ Jon repeats, incredulous. Sam twists around to look at him, only to find him looking completely ice-white, pale as a ghost. “You want me to marry  _ Gilly?  _ Why on—  _ Why?” _

“I mean, I haven’t asked her, but she’d be more than happy to help us out,” Sam says. “Or help— help you out, I mean. Which would also be helping me out. But, what I mean is, if you marry Gilly, then I can go with you to Dragonstone and I can help you there.”

Jon frowns down at him, but their eyes don’t quite meet. It’s like Jon is looking past him, or through him. “I— I don’t know about that, Sam.”

“I mean, it’s not marrying for love, but it’s not the worst option,” Sam says. “If you have someone you want to marry, you should suggest them.”

Jon hesitates, then shakes his head, looking down. He still hasn’t sat down, and it’s starting to make Sam antsy.

“Then I’ll keep coming up with options,” Sam tells him. Jon’s frown deepens, that crease coming to his brow that shows Sam just how agitated he’s becoming, just how deep in thought he is. “It doesn’t have to be Gilly. Like I said, I haven’t even asked her. It was just an idea.”

“Wouldn’t  _ you  _ want to marry Gilly?” Jon finally asks.

_ “Me?”  _ Sam asks. “I—  _ No,  _ of course not, don’t be ridiculous. She’s like— I don’t know, my  _ sister.” _

“What about Little Sam?” Jon demands.

“What  _ about  _ Little Sam?” Sam asks. “I’m not going to abandon him just because I’m not in love with Gilly, what do you think of me?”

“No, I didn’t—” Jon starts, then cuts himself off, frustrated. He seems like he wants to say something else before he just storms out of the hall.

“Jon,” Sam calls after him.  _ “Jon!” _

Jon doesn’t stop, just keeps going until he disappears around the corner. Sam feels bewildered, confused, and slightly agitated. He has no idea where they misstepped, but it feels like it was  _ somewhere. _

Every time Sam tries to approach him with an idea throughout the day, Jon finds some way to avoid him, it seems. He’s always just turning a corner, or just about to leave, or just  _ walks away  _ when Sam approaches him and brings it up. It’s starting to get frustrating. Sam is very well aware of how stoic and silent Jon can get when he’s thinking too hard about things like this, and how he gets a tendency to isolate himself when he’s overwhelmed.

Finally, Sam’s forced to corner Jon right outside his bedchambers. Jon looks frustrated to see him there, but he also looks exhausted. Sam can’t help but ask, “Why are you avoiding me when I’m just trying to help you? Let me  _ help you.” _

Jon sighs heavily, pushing his chamber door open. He motions for Sam to follow him. “Who’re you going to suggest now? Cersei Lannister?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Sam says, fighting back a smile. “No, I had a much better idea. What about asking Brienne of Tarth?”

Jon pauses. For a moment, Sam thinks he’s finally made a good suggestion, but then Jon turns to look at him. The expression on his face is like Sam’s grown two heads or something, and Sam can’t help the urge to look over his shoulder and make sure he’s not about to be attacked by someone behind him.

“What?” Sam asks, turning back to Jon. “No? Not Brienne? She’s very kind. Sansa says—”

_ “No,  _ not Brienne,” Jon cuts him off. “For one, Jaime Lannister would have my head on a pike before I could even finish asking her. For another, I don’t  _ want  _ to marry Brienne. I don’t love her.”

“Well, you haven’t suggested anyone yourself, so all I can do is suggest people I think might be suitable for you,” Sam says. “Brienne is very strong and has a very nice personality, once you get to know her, I’ve heard. I believe it. Anyways, she is of Tarth, as well, which would make a nice little alliance after the— Well, afterwards, but best not to get too far ahead of ourselves.”

Jon snorts. “Too late for that.”

“Well, we said tonight,” Sam says. “It’s tonight, and you need to decide who you’re going to marry so you can  _ ask them  _ and we can plan a wedding before you leave for Dragonstone.”

Jon paces away from him, crossing to the vanity on the opposite side of the room. He stops in front of the looking glass and grips the edge of the table, knuckles going white as he looks down at his hands. After a moment, Sam slowly shuts the door all the way behind himself and steps fully into Jon’s rooms.

“If not Brienne, I can keep thinking,” Sam says. “We could always—”

“If they say I can marry for love,” Jon says abruptly, still staring down hard at his hands, “then I want to marry you.”

Sam stares at the back of his head. His heart races up into his throat, and he forces himself to laugh. “You shouldn’t joke like that, Jon. They’re expecting an answer  _ and  _ a wedding before you leave for Dragonstone, and we—”

“Then it’s a good thing,” Jon interrupts him, “that I’m not joking.”

There’s a beat of still silence before Jon lifts his head and makes eye contact with Sam in their reflections. Sam is frozen in place, feeling nearly like he’s dreaming. It’s possible he is, or maybe he’s died. He  _ has  _ had dreams like this before, but they’ve never felt quite so real.

“Jon,” Sam says, choked. Jon turns to face him, not so far away from him across the room. Maybe two arms’ lengths apart. “What are you saying?”

“I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, Sam,” Jon says, smiling. Sam can tell from his tone that he’s feeling near tears himself, which is remotely reassuring. It reminds Sam that Jon is still  _ Jon,  _ that he still knows who he is better than he thinks he knows himself. “I’m saying that every time you suggest someone you look just as angry as I feel. And I’m saying that I talked to Sansa today and that I talked to Gilly, and both of them said the same thing, which is that I know who I want to marry. And I know that that’s you, Sam.”

Sam almost feels like he’s going to be sick. He swallows, then says, “Jon, wh— Why now?”

“Why  _ now?”  _ Jon asks. “Because I have to get married, Sam.”

“You want to marry me just because you have to get married?” Sam demands. “Or you want to—”

“I want to marry you because I love you,” Jon says. “Because I’m in love with you and I never thought,  _ never,  _ that you might feel the same way about me, but after today and thinking ahead to everything that’s coming— I can’t not say anything anymore, Sam. I can’t. Even if you say no and I do end up marrying Gilly, she said she would but only after she’d had a word with you first—”

“Oh, I’m sure of that,” Sam says, vaguely dizzy. “So you mean it? You mean this?”

“Of course I mean this,” Jon says. “I can get a ring, or— Did you want flowers? I can—”

“No, no, stop,” Sam says, closing the distance between them and locking his hands around Jon’s wrists. That feeling is so grounding that he lets out a shuddering exhale, suddenly feeling rooted to the ground. He looks up to meet Jon’s eyes, crystal-clear.

“Sam,” Jon says softly. “Tell me you feel the same. Tell me I’m not crazy for saying that.”

“You’re not crazy,” Sam says, just as quietly. Jon doesn’t let him say anymore, surging forward to seal him in a kiss. Sam smiles into it for just a moment before Jon dives past his lips into his mouth, licking behind his teeth, tugging Sam impossibly closer with each second until they’re both choking without air.

“When do I have to get married?” Jon asks. “Can it be tonight? I want it to be tonight.”

Sam grins at him, catches his hand again and kisses his palm. “I’ve never been happier that I already forsook my family’s gods when we first took vows together. I want to marry you before the Godswood.”

Jon’s face lights up so incredibly right at that that Sam can’t help himself but to pull him in for another kiss. Something in his chest finally settles,  _ finally  _ clicks into place like some clock mechanic, and he feels like he’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> You can (and should!) come chat with me on Twitter at [@nicole__mello](https://twitter.com/nicole__mello)!


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